The Biggest Lie
by Lee Savage
Summary: Why Lin never mentions her second parent.


I do not remember when Republic City was founded. I have assumed, for the sake of this fic, that it was while Aang was in his twenties.

Title: The Biggest Lie

Summary: Why Lin never mentions her second parent.

Rating: K+

Words: 4,106

* * *

Azula and Toph both consider their relationship to be one of convenience.

When she visited the Fire Nation royal palace, Toph enjoyed their banter because of how unpredictable it was. She knew when any of her friends were lying, yet Azula kept her on her toes. And Toph was one of the few people who actually bothered to speak to Azula outside of a formal context. Unlike the others, Toph wasn't as conscious about people's opinions about her; if anyone had any complaints, they could politely tell it to her face and then enjoy the comfort of a rock to the face.

Toph's parents told her that they wanted her to find a relationship with an important person. Well, they couldn't say that she never obliged in that request.

After coming out of the mental hospital, Azula remained in the the royal palace, though she hardly approached anyone, stripped of any true authority. When suggesting that they move to Republic City to start a new life, Toph expected Azula to complain about the lack of grandeur in the new, bustling city.

Oddly enough, Azula agreed to come. On the ship, she spent most of her time on the deck, gazing at the sea and speaking to nobody unless approached (or, in Azula's perspective, she bothered to acknowledge them). Toph, never one for the snootiness and pretensions of her past life, wondered if Azula would actually enjoy living in a place where she wasn't served.

Yes, Azula'd proved that she wasn't fussy enough to stick her nose up at doing her own dirty work. She excelled where her relatives failed in taking her own risks. But their house in Republic City was plain. There was no gold in any part of the foundation, no fanfare as they walked there.

And so Azula would sit by the living room window, her eyes unfathomable as average people with dull clothes sifted by like dust. As fastidious and finicky as Azula was, she hardly intruded upon the quiet anymore, never sought applause with her prowess.

"Hey, Azzie!"

Azula rolled her eyes.

Walking to stand beside her, Toph asked, "What do you think?"

Azula commented without altering her expression, "It's rather mundane."

Toph smirked. "I think it looks beautiful."

"I suppose that displays who this 'city' appeals to." She examined the constant shifting of people, an entire crowd teeming with nothing. No ambitions, no uproar. As if the war had been a century ago. People she wouldn't command or inspire with fear or admiration. "I don't have a place here."

"You can have some influence. Aang's going to let me lead the police force and train them in metalbending. Cool, huh? Even though you're a firebender, you can give me strategy tips on having order and responsibility and being a stiff. Just don't tell Aang. Besides, isn't it great to get your prissy toes out of the palace once in awhile?"

Azula said, "Our house doesn't have servants."

"Our house doesn't have Zuko."

The firebender allowed herself a small smile. "Point made."

* * *

The day that Toph brought a child home from the orphanage, Azula was, for once, quite perplexed. What about their situation indicated that they needed a child—that Azula needed a child around her? Something about humanity, a talk with Aang. Why didn't Azula end the Avatar permanently when she had the chance?

Azula was a strategist, not a parent. She planned sieges and overthrew governments; she didn't feed petulant children and arrange play dates.

Though both of their backgrounds insisted upon decorum and poise, Toph hardly delivered, while Azula's etiquette was impeccable-with the exception of her casual conversations with others. Therefore, she never pretended to act happy around the small child.

Azula merely stood there when they were introduced; when Toph asked what she was thinking, so Azula tersely replied that she was considering if orphanages gave refunds if their customers were discontent with their purchase.

* * *

"It's normal for scared kids to climb into bed with their parents," Toph says. All three of the residents of the house are in the kitchen. Toph stands near the entryway, fully-armored and ready to depart. Azula sits at the table with Lin across from her. The room is a mute green. Lin is nodding off, though the pink-orange of dawn glimmers through the window, and the energy seeps into Azula as the sun approaches the grimy city.

Azula wrinkles her nose as saliva collects on the girl's bottom lip. She says, "Why would I let an urchin with questionable hygiene crawl into bed with me?" She looks pointedly at Toph. "I already allow enough dirt into my bed."

At the accusation, Toph raises her hands up. "Hey, part of the job. And the bed has joint ownership."

Azula's eyebrows raise primly and she looks at the girl. "Brush your hair," she orders.

Lin straightens her shoulders and replies nonchalantly, "I don't feel like it."

Azula, often composed and able to make men follow her orders on a whim, has to pause to not lose her patience. The insolence! If left to Toph, the child will be nothing but an undisciplined brat, running rampant wherever she pleases; whenever the child smarts off, the chief of police smirks and shrugs her shoulders. No, even if Azula possesses no reason to consider any child her own, allowing this scruffy little beast to make a mockery of her authority is unfathomable.

If the child turns into an uncouth, unintelligent barbarian, they won't blame the esteemed chief of police who taught the Avatar earthbending; they'll blame the heartless, genocidal princess who went insane. Of course, they'll say, she lived with a whackjob. How could she not have turned out badly?

"Listen to your mother," Toph chides.

Lin sticks her tongue out.

"I am not a mother," Azula protests, deflating for a brief second. How can she be a mother when she loathes the very thought of her own mother? When that title brings back the bitterness of her own disagreements with the woman who abandoned her for her failure of a brother? Images of sitting demure and docile like a _good _princess should.

Oh, the irony of it all. Her own mother disappeared, leaving her with no healthy adult influence, and she's expected to sit at home and behave while raising a child with a woman no more cuddly than she is. With the flowery compliments and the soft gestures. Something so domestic and unfamiliar, something that no doubt has the world laughing at her ineptitude.

Because they expect her to fail; they know she'll fail. Because she's that loveless and crazy sister of Firelord Zuko's who got locked up.

"You're good at order and planning," Toph consoles, leaning an arm on the wall. "Without you, both of us would be all over the place. Just try to lighten up."

"She's rowdy and foulmouthed. No doubt your influence."

"I can hear you!" Lin grumbles.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, Azzie."

"_Azula_."

"-Azzie, you're not really much for mud-tossing contests. Hey, she's energetic 'cause she has nobody to play with-except you, but Azzie-"

"I refuse to get another one. I detest children." Another one means squabbles, favoritism, a lopsided distribution of attention. Azula might become an unrepentant child-murderer before this one reaches puberty, and then—yes, she'll degenerate back to her violent tendencies, albeit with far less tact and honeyed words.

"Believe it or not, but she's actually pretty shy with everyone else. She saves it all for you."

"I truly was born lucky. I should mark down the date and notify Zuko that he was right about something."

"She knows she can annoy you-or maybe she's trying to finally get a rise out of you." Toph then releases a mock sigh. "Well, I must depart to yell inspirational junk at a bunch of amateurs. See ya, kiddo, Azzie!"

Azula rolls her eyes. "I shall await with bated breath."

Toph motions goodbye with one hand before walking out of the room and to the front door. "You know it! See ya, bait-breath!" As soon as Azula ascertains that Toph is gone, she stands. Lin watches her with dull eyes.

Tersely, Azula says, "Subordinates listen to their masters. As a child, you are meant to be submissive under your guardians' will."

Lin pouts and hits the floor with one foot. The earth trembles, and Azula hears glass break in another room. "I'm not a child-I'm eight!"

Ahh, so they'll need to have a confrontation.

Azula has conquered cities, made generals quiver as she walked amongst them.

"You have to go to school," Azula presses, placing her hand to her temple and allowing the morning's frustrations to filter into her voice. "You need to look presentable."

Lin starts pacing haphazardly around the room. "But Azzie, Mom says that, since I can earthbend, I'll always have a place on the squad. I don't need to read or listen to boring teachers to know how to kick butt. School's only important if I wanna be a stuffy egghead like you!"

Azula's lips tighten. "You will refer to me as Azula, and when you're an adult, you might not want to do as your mother desires. Now, brush your hair."

"Or what-you'll call the police? Too bad, 'cause Mom is the police."

They stare at each other, Lin with a reproachful glare and Azula with an unreadable expression. Then, Azula shrugs. "Very well." With that, she uses all of the strength engrained in her from years of long, arduous training sessions to lift the young child off the ground and slings the girl over her shoulder without a single noise.

The child thrashes accordingly, pulling at Azula's hair. "What-let me go! Unhand me, evildoer!"

"Urchin," Azula replies lightly as she walks to Lin's bedroom.

"Jerk!"

Azula plops the girl onto a stool in front of her dresser. Lin's room is perhaps the most adorned place in the quaint home. Lin looks into the mirror atop the dresser and scowls at the woman behind her, who bends down when she finds the brush discarded on the floor.

"I'm telling Mom!"

"I'm sure she'll throw me in a cell," Azula says acidly, standing back up. "I know they didn't teach you such things at that lowly establishment, but this is called a 'hairbrush'." She begins combing roughly through the child's hair, mockingly humming a song from her chldhood.

"That hurts!"

"I gave you the option to do it yourself." Azula continues roughly pulling knots out of the girl's hair as Lin whines. "Do you want everyone to think you're an orphan?"

Lin huffs. "I don't care!"

With curtness and another yank, Azula tells the child, "If you struggle, it only hurts more."

"Whatever!" Lin retorts. They say nothing for awhile, the child content with sulking while her face turns red. Azula never gazes up to catch what the mirror renders.

When she's done, the child starts stomping away. "I hate you!"

Strolling behind the girl, Azula rolls her eyes. "Please, I'm used to _that_." Like she hasn't heard that before.

* * *

Lin, despite years of living under the same roof with someone who can detect lies and a master manipulator, never quite learns how to shield her lies. Yes, as an adolescent, she's often removed from expressive displays of emotion, but she blunt and honest, never afraid to display disapproval and discontent. When she dislikes someone, they know it rather quickly.

But since she can't circumvent the truth, Azula recognizes when the girl is distressed. Azula is lounging in the living room, where the upholstery was replaced regularly when Lin was little. When the girl arrives home after lessons with her mother, Azula doesn't bother to look up from her reading material.

Lan stands awkwardly in front of Azula, rubbing her hands together.

"Azzie." By now, Azula assumes that beyond torture or mutilation, that repulsive nickname is permanent.

Azula says, "Your body odor leaves little to be desired."

"Look, I just need you to know that I-"

Azula sighs. "What did you break, and how much will it cost me?" Placing the scroll down, she stands and makes her way to the kitchen, not particularly engrossed in whatever melodrama the girl is usurped into.

"I—a few days ago at school, there was this fight. I was talking about you, and someone asked me what your real name was, so-"

Azula whirls around. "Sit down." The girl just stares at her with her eyes shining. If only Azula wasn't several inches shorter than Lin, then perhaps a stare-down would have been in her favor. Yes, grown men always stood above her when she commanded them, but they had orders or their lives were at stake. Leverage. They couldn't giggle at her and retreat to their rooms.

"I'm waiting."

Lin sits, then removes her shoves so she can massage her feet. Azula grimaces. "Azzie, my feet hurt."

"You think an hour of training is too extensive? When I was barely a toddler, my father insisted on training from midday to late dusk."

"I—I was having a conversation with some people at my school."

"Yes, I heard you the first time; I did not believe it to be a delusion, but congratulations on having the potential for civil discourse. I'll be sure to mark that one as a milestone when you succeed." Not amicable or trusting, often refraining from speaking to others as companions—that's just the girl.

Azula glowers. "I thought I told you to never mention me." She turns away from the girl and begins rearranging the objects on the kitchen counter.

When she walks the girl to school, Azula never stays for long. For the girl. She wears her hair down, dresses in the least elaborate of clothes. Anything that will detract from her rather obvious ancestry. Even with the high number of immigrants from the Fire Nation who boldly flash their colors, there are still numerous reports of hate crimes against those who even act in some manner to suggest they have Fire Nation ancestry-despite the heterogeneous nature of her nation's people.

And no doubt the daughter of the Firelord who conquered Ba Sing Se and suggested the destruction of an entire population will not be well-received by those who still hold their prejudices. When she walks in the street, she makes sure to never meet a stranger's eyes. It makes her look vulnerable, yes, but that only lessens their suspicions should they ever wonder if the proud Fire Nation princess and brilliant strategist has reduced herself to mulling around with commoners and taking in strays.

"They said-they said that you were a monster."

The former princess doesn't turn around to look at Lin. The flesh of her palm stings as she places both of her hands against the counter with more force than necessary, restraining her ire. "I'm not so weak that I need you to defend me. I've made my choices, and I won't let my past choices ruin what I've worked for." Azula doesn't elaborate that "what I worked for" means "what I've done to protect you."

Azula posture worsens as she hunches a bit. "Don't bring me up. If anyone asks, you are the daughter of a companion of the Avatar, one of the heroes of the Century War."

Lin raises her voice with a shocking fervor. "So, they should remember me based on a half-truth?" A half-truth. Is the girl really so foolish to consider herself to be the daughter of the former princess of a nation responsible for mass murder, of a woman willing to let thousands die as she smirks at the suggestion because she was brilliant enough to think of it, as if it was as simple as going out for tea?

No concern, no compassion. Zuzu once accused her—in one of his lesser moments as the venerable Firelord—of being "full of nothing," and then proceeded to try and take his sister into his arms. While his black eye couldn't have been considered symmetrical to the scar Dad gave him, it still filled Azula with warm, brimming glee.

Azula turns. "No, you should be remembered as Lin Beifong, not defined by your predecessors." Lin peers at Azula with intense eyes. Though Azula can easily make a man squirm with her dark glares, the young woman's scrutinizing almost makes her falter. Too familiar.

Keeping her voice level, Azula continues with a slight pressure in her lungs, "It's a lie to say that I'll always be there for you. Because I won't hold your hand, but I've done what I believe is best for you. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me." She sits across from Lin.

Whereas Ursa was doting yet absent, Azula is consistent yet distant. While she doesn't give hugs or bedtime stories (her father's bedside tales often invoked perturbing subjects such as superiority and disappointing offspring), she ensures that the child is safe and healthy.

It's a maudlin, idiotic sentiment, but, apparently satisfied, Lin stands. Following her path warily, Azula says nothing as Lin uncharacteristically—for affection isn't common under their roof—pulls Azula into an embrace, dwarfing Azula with her intimidating stature and the scent of sweat and dirt and smoke from the grimy streets where the factories line the sky.

"I think you've gotten soft," Toph would have teased.

Azula stiffens in Lin's strong, certain hold.

* * *

With the onset of adolescence, Lin calms-and Toph is amused at how similar she and Azula are, and how hesitant they both are to admit it. Both are meticulous and serious; Lin rarely laughs at her mother's jokes, and she diligently works on her schoolwork and chores.

Everything seems to lull into an easy rhythm, until one winter night when everything grows colder than ever before. Lin sees Azula stumble and fall in the living room. When she goes to help her, Azula predictably acts irritated that Lin has the audacity to treat her as helpless.

"Let go of me."

Once Azula is standing and pulls away from Lin, the young woman says, "Azzie, you—you haven't been yourself. I think I once actually saw you hug Mom." The joke falls flat as Azula shakes her head.

"What are you talking about?"

After that night, Azula deteriorates, though she denies her bursts of delirium, her fever, her inability to keep food down. She refuses to be bedridden until pain consumes her. They treat her with a silver liquid, but she worsens. Three years after the Yakone incident, Azula collapses and remains in the bed.

Everyone talks in whispers around Lin. Her mother insists that Azula won't want anybody to remember her as sickly and frail, caught in the gossamer web of delirium in the waning nights. Nobody goes to keep her company except Toph.

Then, Lin rekindles some of her old spirit and approaches her mother with eyes of fire.

"Let me see her."

Considering the young woman, Toph shakes her head sadly, "You're definitely Azula's daughter."

Toph once told Lin that Azula's used to always wear red, and it bemuses Lin to imagine her caretaker in something so striking, so bright and ostentatious. All she ever wore were crisp, never-wrinkled pants and tops of muted, simple colors.

When Lin walks into the bedroom, Azula is obscured by darkness, black hair pooled on the pillow, strangely wild. Her nightclothes are a watery green. Her skin so pale that it's as if her bones are resting bare on top of her.

Azula recalls an unpleasant meeting with Aang. Apparently, her charge was sickeningly smitten with the Avatar's son, and the Avatar thought it appropriate to come into her home.

"_Remember the good old days?"_

_"Remember that time I killed you? I'm quite fond of that moment."_

_"How are you doing, Azula?"_

_"Well, I'm not flinging feces on the wall anymore, so I suppose I'm quite well." During her stay at the mental institution, stories about her condition were quite colorful._

And then there are the odd topics.

_"How can I tell if he likes me?"_

_Azula frowns. Neither she nor Toph can attest to being successful with men._

_"If you like him, make your strike. Don't wait for the other party to act."_

Azula's eyes snap open. Once a deep amber, they appear dim and gray. Lin opens her mouth to speak, her jaw trembling, but her caretaker says, "You're too tall. Sit down."

"Everyone's too tall for you," Lin replies, trying to keep her voice steady. She complies and scoots the chair right by her caretaker's side, and Azula turns her head.

Azula sighs, her breaths reedy and hollow. "Spend eight hours a day practicing for your entire childhood and see how well you grow." Then, her forehead knits into a display of shallow wrinkles. She's scrutinizing. "You haven't brushed your hair."

___Neither have you, _ Lin thinks, but neither of them are much for joking.

Lin places her hands in her lap. "The Firelord's coming to see you."

"Oh yes, Zuzu and his dramatics. May I die before _that _spectacle arrives."

"Azula, please."

The firebender laughs, a weak, hoarse sound. "Oh, so it's 'Azula' now? I have to be on my deathbed to earn any respect?"

"You're going to be fine," Lin insists. She takes both of her hands and gently pulls one of Azula's to her. Typically quick to retract from even the slightest of touches, her caretaker says nothing about the tender gesture, her arm limp.

Azula's lips raise to a wry smirk. "They can never say I raised you to lie like me." With that, Lin refrains from saying anything because there's that pressure in her throat that tells her that she's about to cry. No, she needs to be strong. Azula says that tears don't solve problems.

Unfortunately, her caretaker is more than capable of reading her anxiety. "Well? You have something to say-just spit it out."

The young woman shakes her head. She whispers. "I love you." Azula closes her eyes and turns her head away from her charge. Lin starts to cry.

Azula's eyes snap open, and she whispers, "Those won't help anything." She sounds lighter, almost kind.

The girl tightens her grip on Azula's hand. "Who's going to help me now?" The young woman wants to hear Azula say that she loves her, that she's proud of her.

"It's for the best," Azula says, forcing her voice to become cold. "You have your mother. You'll teach yourself. You'll be better off by not associating yourself much with me. You'll grow into an adult, and you'll forget all about me."

Lin's lips quiver. "No, no. I can't ever forget you."

"You've only known me for eleven years. That's such an insignificant amount of time."

Impatiently, Lin says, "You raised me, taught me. How is that insignificant?"

"True, but you should never allow anyone a chance to doubt the credibility of your leadership. If an evil, cruel beast raised you, then you'll be scrutinized. Best to work around the truth."

Lin bites her lip. "You're giving up. I never thought you'd give in."

"No, I've never settled into an unextraordinary life because I conceded. I did it because I'm realistic. I may have been able to control an army or rule a nation, but not even I can live forever."

"You're only in your forties." Lin presses Azula's hand to her lips."You can't die. I love you."

"Monsters can't love."

"You're not a monster. I don't think a monster could set me straight and give me what I needed. I don't think Mom would allow a monster to have a child-or stay in her bed."

Azula doesn't reply. Any concessions now will only wound her.

* * *

Whenever Lin readies for duty, alone in the solace of her home, she straightens and thinks of how Azula would lightly rap her knuckles twice between Lin's shoulders whenever she would slouch. She keeps herself groomed, keeps her stride.

Yet everyone refers to her as Toph's daughter. For Azula's name is one marked with shame. Even those who know who she was raised by assume that Toph was her primary influence. After all, they both can hold a firm grasp on the police leadership, never buckling under the suggestions of politicians.

She's Toph's daughter, Toph's daughter. A heroine. A skilled earthbender. Though her ability to calmly toss around lies is not a trait she learned from Toph Beifong.


End file.
